


Home.

by Luxi_Storyteller



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Airplane meeting, Confident lexa, F/F, broken hearted clarke, freeform poerty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxi_Storyteller/pseuds/Luxi_Storyteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is getting on a plane. She already flustered and then a woman is in her seat. 15D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone else seems to understand.  
Everyone else the boarding mundane.  
The way to move through the crowds.  
Or the TSA won't let you bring a drink.  
Five dollars. Don't they get it's all I had.  
Only calories for the day. Seven more.  
Seven more days of struggles. Payday.

Doesn't change the line to board though.  
Not how everyone stands with their bags.  
Stands with luggage, a personal item.  
Questions of nonsense roll through me.  
How does one choose just one item?  
A book they won't read, or magazine.  
A u-shaped pillow that seems just weird.

Not me. Nope, that's planning at best.  
My biggest failure. Plotting. Organizing.  
None of that has ever been of value.  
This I hold the canvas messenger bag.  
The bag with single spare shirt, socks.  
Panties that have little more purpose  
Than to say I have them. And eyeliner.

The world of me in a bag. Half change  
Of clothes next to the laptop of pain.  
The winged tube my escape from one  
Hell to another of tears and goodbyes.  
A place of grieving and melancholy.  
But all will be okay. The time to say bye  
Has come, and I shall survive this one.

Surviving always my specialty. And I will.  
Make it through the line and apologizing   
For the torn boarding pass to the scowler.  
Why couldn't she smile; isn't it her job?  
Doesn't matter though as I walk in line  
cattle to slaughter, mindless of future.  
Following the path well tread before us.

I want to wonder why everyone follows.  
How it's so easy for them all to just go?  
I want to, don't have multitasking skill  
Though so I'm struggling to find 15d.l  
15 rows in there's a sleeping brunette.  
A beautiful brunette with bulky Beats on.  
My seat. 15D. In the aisle. I can't move.

Throats clear behind me. Impatience.   
The story of my life with disorganization.  
I tap her on the shoulder. No movement.  
Like I'm invisible. I guess I kinda am.   
throat clearing again is pissing me off.  
"Just fucking chill!" I growl. Tossing bag,  
It hits the seat nearest to the window.

Stretching my leg, I try to glide it over her.  
No touching. I'm not a creep. But I'm small.  
And the cheep flight has packed the seat in.  
My foot balanced on the toes. Straddling  
Her sleeping body. My hands guiding me.  
Until the coughed pushes me. Moving past.  
Sending my body into Gorgeous. Jade eyes.

The woman's hands come up to settle me   
My body fulling in her lap. Breasts to nose.  
Her warm breath flowing over my cleavage.  
And then a light rumble of her chest. A snort.  
She's laughing at me. Guess she's not mad.  
That's one positive. Not many to have here.  
"I usually take a girl to dinner first," she says.

Blood surfacing over flesh. Pulse throbbing.  
The words felt more than heard against skin.  
Her lips nearly kissing my D cups in seat 15D.  
Hands on hips and is she holding me down?  
Or is she pressing me away? Irritated at me.  
"I don't mind staying like this... but seat belts."  
I don't remember how to think let alone what.

"This is supposed to be my seat," I choke out.  
Her chest vibrates again. Caressing my hips.  
"Well, that was a way to reclaim it. Though I  
Feel you're more of a window girl, Princess."  
Leaning back and trying to get my legs to work,  
I push at the blonde locks frizzing out crazily.  
I'm getting more flustered as people push me.

Tanned hands come up and smooth my hair.  
Cradling my face as though we are familiar.  
Like she has known my whole miserable life.   
"You're okay," she whispers as I lose myself.  
Her eyes so soft and gentle. Grassy fields   
Warm summer days of frolic that I was to see.  
Hand out to the aisle, she stops the pushers.

The time allows for me to get up from her lap.  
Slide over, curl in a ball. Head against plastic.  
Cooling the heat that has built from her touch.  
Backs of fingers grazing against my forearm.  
Question glinting in her eyes, "Phoenix or LA?"  
I blink unsure of the question. We left Phoenix.  
She understands, and adds one word, "home?"

"Phoenix... Funeral in LA," I answer solemnly.  
The graze turns over and a subtle squeeze.  
A touch of comfort. Anyone else I'd cringe.  
But I'm safe. I'm safe and I smile. Well sorta.  
But she gives me a smile and name, "Lexa."  
And, "How about dinner when we get home?"  
We. Home. And I nod. Nod at we and home.


	2. Chapter 2

Thirty-four hours of set-up and replayed tales.  
Just enough time to be asked again and again.  
Asked about the ring that is no longer present.  
The one fool who asked, "What did you do?"  
Because they've know you just long enough.  
Long enough to know that it must've been me.

Trip to the airport a breath of fresh air. Freedom.  
Word said when the decisions made. Complete.  
Driving in circles as the closest to sister cries,  
"We're going to die!" And slams on the brakes.  
We laugh even though when the driver says it  
There's more of a possibility of actual death.  
But we are unstoppable. Invincible. Survivors.

It's been too long, and time together too short.  
Awkward side hug in the car, love exchanged.  
Already missing the other 'cause I don't ever,  
Not ever, come "home" if possibly avoidable.  
Squeezing again, kiss pressed to her temple,  
Then popping the door. Hopping out quickly.  
Compact car pulling away before back turns.

Alone. Again. Breathing in as people pass-by.  
Then a hand on me. A hand gripping my arm.  
Snapping to attention, Green-eyed Gorgeous  
Just nods as she pulls me along. Not alone.  
I don't have to ask. She knows what I think.  
"I switched my flight. Figured we could sit..."  
She stops though 'cause I'm just studying her.

Lip between her teeth, and eyes scanning me.  
I still haven't spoken. And she's worrying over  
Something. Probably me. Well that's my ego.  
Like she'd give a damn about me? But maybe.  
"I'd love to." After all, did agree to eat with her.  
And this time her smile is large. Pearlescent.  
A picture of genuine warmth that deserves all.

Lexa guides me to the kiosks. Tiny computer.  
Digits tap the screen with practiced precision.  
Choosing her seat. Selecting first class. $78.  
I can't speak. But I need to tell her I'm coach.  
No chance though. Boarding pass is printed.  
She hovers over the name screen, waiting.  
"Griffin," and her programmed tapping again.

Select a seat. She doesn't look up. No asking.  
Lexa choose the window for me. Credit card  
Is run without question. Printed pass in hand.  
My hand holds a first class ticket that allows  
Us to bypass the awkward pat down by TSA.  
She guides me through LAX like a champ.  
With only an, "I travel a lot," for explanation.  
  
Running through Starbucks again she buys.  
It's getting uncomfortable. Like "poor" maybe  
Tattooed across my forehead unknown to me.  
But the cool drink in hand, straw between lips,  
Has my moaning quietly in pleasure. A sound  
That has her teeth showing and cheeks flush.  
Her slight lift of a brow raised of acknowledging.

"Flight 626 will begin boarding in five minutes."  
Lane's hand comes down and fingers wrapping  
Around mine like it's easy and natural. Perfect.  
But too easy. Too natural. Too perfect to be true.  
Glancing up, I start but stop the words coming.  
A side glance and she says, "I'm not a killer."  
The straight edge smirk playfully adds depth.

Following her lead. Her guidance at all costs.  
She steps past out row to give me the room.  
Saddened a little that I don't get to try crawling.  
The I don't get to really do anything but follow.  
Ass settling in the cushions $78 more recliner.  
My eyes wander over the tarmacs and lights.  
Her hand settling back into mine. Hers it said.

"How did you know the flight I was on?" I ask.  
Jade eyes turning to see me. Tongue running  
Over her plump pillow lip. Uncertainty buried.  
The ripple of fear brushing across the fragility  
Of my being. Disturbing even the very edges.  
But it's simple enough. "You said a short trip."  
And another soft smile. "Took a chance on it."

Fingers releasing, her arm wraps around me.  
Lexa's face buried in my wind blown lockes.  
"What are you doing?" Questions all I manage.  
A huff and then a deep inhale. Like a creeper.  
Steady she says, "someone far..." but doesn't  
Finish her sentence before rotten eggs fill me.  
Disgusting! On an airplane?! No escape now.

Covering my mouth in an attempt not to retch.  
Lexa laughs, breathing in my hair like oxygen.  
"You smell like home," her breath tickling flesh.  
So close. familiar like the way it's meant to be.  
Like her arm over me, pulling me in closer to  
Her is an everyday reality. Expect it's reality.  
How can this be reality when she is perfection?

"Why me?" I ask, the instability that is my life  
Returning with a quake of the tires being ripped  
From the ground. Gravity repelled and fought.  
But maybe we weren't effected by gravitation.  
Maybe we were magnetization. Drawn as one.  
Tucked into her side, she tells me, "The world  
Of chance brought you to me. Why fight fate?"

 

 


End file.
